Miami International Film Festival

March 3, 2006|By Dan Hudak Special Correspondent

51 Birch Street

The Block family never lived the American dream. Parents Mike and Mina were never happily married. The three grown children have fond memories of only their mother; their father was always cold, distant and lacking emotion.

It couldn't have been a great surprise, then, for documentarian Doug Block to see his father marry his former secretary three months after his mother's death. When Block begins to look deeper at his parents' history in the often-fascinating 51 Birch Street, what he finds shocks both him and the viewer alike.

This is an emotional whirlwind of a movie, with much more head-shaking disbelief than cheery moments of embarrassing honesty. There's nothing special or unique about the Block family, and the film never tries to be more than what it is: a personal documentary made by a man who has chosen to publicize his family's torrid past. It's well-made and intriguing, but you will not be alone if afterward you feel as though you've eavesdropped on a private conversation.

You may expect something involving Tommy Chong -- of the infamous pot-smoking duo Cheech & Chong -- to be a laid-back, gleeful celebration of all things marijuana, with no apologies for the message it sends or the delirious haze with which it attempts to consume you.

AKA Tommy Chong is, however, something very different. Much more than a stoner's good time, the film is a politically-charged treatise on the unfair witch hunt that landed Chong in prison in 2004 for -- get this -- selling bongs. As Josh Gilbert's one-sided film progresses, it becomes clear that Chong was targeted by the DEA/feds because of his name, and that his seemingly unjustified arrest was meant more as a message on the war on drugs than as a reflection of Chong's civil disobedience.

Chong, both before and after his nine months in prison, has been joking about the arrest in his stand-up comedy routine. It seems he may get the last laugh after all.

The point of For the Love of Dolly is that Dolly Parton's music and message of self-acceptance have allowed her fans to live happy, productive lives. The problem is that the five people featured in this documentary don't live productive lives. Instead they spend all their time obsessing over Parton, literally plotting to be seen at her next parade or stalking her outside her home.

One woman, Jeanette Williams, has a Dolly tattoo on her butt and is convinced that her deceased dog was her soul mate. Another person, a middle-aged man with a bad dye job named Harrel Gabehart, says: "When I truly find my self-respect and truly find myself ... she'll be one of the prime people that will be the cause of it."

Why is she so important to these people? Director Tai Uhlmann never explains with any great detail or insight why these people are so obsessed with Parton. Therein lies the film's biggest flaw. When a movie about a celebrity's obsessive fans doesn't take the time to elucidate the fascination, it is a failure.